She Will Rise Again
by Olive Tree Hugger
Summary: Like a phoenix from the ashes, a reincarnated spirit will rise again and claim what is hers. /ChasexOC/ Sequel to "9 Lives"
1. Proof

**Hey, readers. If you're a fan of my other fic, "9 Lives", then you might really like this. If you aren't, go read it and please excuse the stupid grammar mistakes I made. That was a while ago. So this is a sort of sequel. The lovely and beautiful albino girl is reincarnated into present time in Russia. Insanity ensues.**

* * *

The delicious scent of lunch wafted through the atmosphere like a gust of cold air from an air conditioner. It snaked its way through the manor, wading past furniture and walls, seeping through an open window into the garden below. There, it twisted downwads and spread through the atmosphere, mingling with the scent of the late orange blossoms clinging to the trees. The oncoming winds from the west propelled the scent forward, for anyone to smell.

Anastasia was on the patio swing, gently propelling herself back and forth with one of her feet touching the wooden deck underneath her. The other leg was folded up, curled against her body. As she swayed to and fro in the swing, she ran her eyes over the page she was reading. It was an interesting book, she supposed, with all the secret affairs and murders and arrests. But Anastasia hated the feeling of cliché she sensed from it. Dr. Zhivago may have been an old Russian classic, but it was as predictable as any modern day soap opera.

She was pleased and relieved to smell something delectable and mouthwatering from upstairs. Anastasia heaved herself out of the swing, shoved her feet into the flats she'd so carelessly kicked off earlier. She folded the top corner of the novel and closed it, leaving it on the cushion of the swing as she hurried inside.

She burst through the front door, having to shunt it open from how heavy the wooden thing was, and skittered up the tile steps, grasping the iron rail to propel herself. If she could only get up to the dining room before Mother did. If she could just get a glimpse of the meal before—

Anastasia halted immediately when she saw the tall, glittering, pale woman standing at the top of the steps, wearing an arrogant grin on her face. She had her golden hair neatly pulled back and pinned together with a black jade comb. Her dress was lacey and black and revealing in more ways than one. Her face was made up delicately, only a small amount of glimmering lipstick and eye shadow. Still, her mother shone like a star in the unpolluted night sky. Anastasia grinned up at her, greeting, "Good afternoon, Mother."

Sophie clucked her tongue teasingly, responding coolly, "Trying to sneak in to lunch, are we?"

The daughter sheepishly replied, "Not exactly. I'm just hungry."

Shaking her head, the mother whipped out a wide red cloth from her pocket and chastised, "You know the rules, Anastasia."

Sighing, she trudged the rest of the way up to meet her mother, closing her eyes and waiting. Sophie tied it over the top half of her face, leaving only Anastasia's mouth uncovered.

The girl instantly was thrust into a world and blindness and muted olfactory senses. Breathing through her mouth, she cautiously tip toed her way forward. She heard Sophie's voice, "What do you hear?"

Anastasia focused on the sounds ringing in her ears. She said, "I hear your footsteps…my own…I think a bird outside…"

"What kind of bird?" Came the mother's reply.

The daughter puckered her lips and thought for a moment, listening. Finally, she stated, "Blue jay. Definitely."

"Alright," continued Sophie, "What else?"

Anastasia turned her head and strained her ears to pick up the sound. "I believe….I believe I hear someone shouting on the phone in their backyard," she paused, "Their babysitter just cancelled," she concluded with a smirk.

Sophie nodded in approval, patting her daughter's shoulder. She led her to the dining room and sat her down in a chair.

Anastasia couldn't smell the food or see it, but there was indeed a scent that made her mouth water on its own. Sophie held up a spoonful of something to her mouth and said, "Taste it."

The young girl took the bite and started to chew. She let it roll about around her mouth, savoring it not for its deliciousness, but for its taste. It was…spiced. It was also sweet, in a tantalizing sort of way. She could swear there was a dash of cinnamon in there.

After a few moments of chewing, Anastasia swallowed and declared, "Sweet potatoes baked with cinnamon and extra virgin olive oil. Salt, too."

"Very good," Sophie replied. She gave Anastasia some water, then another spoonful of something else.

The girl smacked her lips together and noted first how hot the food was. She clenched her jaw and waited for the initial pain to pass before making her judgment. It was fleshy and bumpy, a few tiny lumps sitting on her tongue. It wasn't bland but it wasn't extremely flavorful either. Seconds later, the thought occurred to her.

"…Stuffed eggplant," she stated.

"Wonderful," Sophie praised. She untied the cloth from her daughter's face and said, "You may enjoy your lunch now."

"Sweet," Anastasia said, before piling the potatoes and eggplants onto her plate. Sophie sat across from her, keeping her cold brown eyes fixated on her daughter.

Picking at her plate delicately, Sophie asked, "How is your reading coming along?"

Anastasia groaned as she slid her fork into a potato, replying, "Badly. Dr. Zhivago is boring, Crime and Punishment couldn't be less predictable, and Anna Karenina isn't a story, it's a self-help book!"

Sophie swallowed a mouthful of food and responded, "You know why I have you read so many classics, child. It's for your own mental growth and understanding of human nature. Did you learn anything from Fyodor's description of a serial killer?"

Anastasia shrugged. "Only that most of them kill when the instinct intends, not out of sheer hatred for mankind."

"Good," her mother replied before taking a sip of water. "Next month I'll have you read from Black Literature."

A part of Anastasia leapt for joy. African-American novels were always a fresh step away from her native Russian lit. She was hoping for something along the lines of Ai or Langston Hughes.

"Or maybe," Sophie suddenly said, "Maybe we should get you reading more Chinese literature."

A shiver ran down Anastasia's spine. She'd read a few Chinese stories, memorized a few proverbs, but the poetry had shaken her to her core. Mainly because it wasn't poetry her mother had her read, they'd actually been spells. Sophie had an obsession with magic, and tried to raise Anastasia to be a witch. The young girl never liked the idea of being part of the Heylin vs. Xiaolin conflict. Her mother read her stories about famous warlords of the evil kind, and brave monks fighting for justice, all of which Anastasia thought was boring and frankly, unrealistic. All of Sophie's attempts to conjure magic ended in failure, including the time Anastasia tried. When would she learn that magic just wasn't _real?_

It was absurd, really, to think that such a logical and forefront woman like Sophie could really believe in witches and magical powers and spells. She had raised Anastasia to think like an analyst, reading about the human nature as much as possible to perceive weakness of any kind. She was trained to heighten all of her senses in case a few were impaired. Anastasia was working to be the perfect human being. Sophie was just trying to create a magic-less villain of some sort.

The daughter slammed her fork onto the table, growling, "No!"

"Anastasia, your manners!" Sophie exclaimed, dabbing her lips on a napkin.

"I will not try to learn magic, Mother, it's not worth it!" Anastasia stated angrily, rising from her seat.

Sophie's perfectly plucked brows furrowed and she warned, pointing a slender finger at her offspring, "I didn't raise my daughter to be an ungrateful brat. You will do as I say, and read Chinese spells every day from now on."

"Until what?!" Anastasia cried, waving her hands about, "Until a furry goblin pulls me into a swirling black vortex, never to be seen again? News flash, Mother, it's not happening."

"You _will_ read those spells! Magic does in fact exist and I will prove it to you," Sophie yelled, jerking Anastasia by the arm and pulling her forward. The daughter didn't try to pull away from her vice grip, but shouted, "Where are we going?"

Sophie dug her nails into the girl's skin and replied, "To the basement. We have a visitor."

"Who?"

"Patience, Anastasia," came the annoyed reply.

As she was dragged down to the basement, Anastasia sighed in frustration, thinking that their little "visitor" would be some hack professor of alchemy or astrology, trying to shove the subjects down her throat like her mother tried.

But the sight she witnessed clearly painted a different picture.

He was tall, slender, and dressed nearly all in black. A black leather jacket hung off of him loosely. His hair was unnaturally pale yellow, side-swept and spaghetti straight. His eyes were glaringly red, something Anastasia had never seen on another person. He was wearing a small backpack.

Sophie finally let go of her daughter and said, "Anastasia, this is your second cousin, Jack."


	2. Getting Acquainted

She'd flown before. Sophie had taken her to various countries and isles around the world, including Japan, Brazil, Micronesia, and Algeria. When she was fifteen, her mother flew her to Shanghai. It was possibly her best experience on an airplane yet. Sophie had assigned her a first class trip. It was glorious for a teenage girl, all the food and coffee and peanuts she could ask for, all the male attendants she could flirt with, and all the movies she could watch during the flight.

But there were no movies or peanuts during this flight, nor were there any flight attendants. Unless of course, you counted floating robots dressed in bow ties as flight attendants. They'd initially scared her, the brass-colored androids with thick arms and sharp looking blades as fingers. They had no legs, instead floating effortlessly through the air. One offered her a glass of champagne, sitting on the silver platter it projected through its abdomen. Anastasia took a glass from the platter shoved in her face, only to stare down at the amber-colored liquid, watching her reflection.

"Ever had champagne before?" Jack asked from the pilot seat.

When she glanced up, she caught his red eyes glimmering. She smirked, replying, "Yeah. My mother and I drink it sometimes. Usually on Christmas Eve."

Jack nodded, watching the screen before him. "I don't normally drink it. I think it's gross. But Mom seems to adore all kinds of alcohol, except beer."

"Ew, beer," Anastasia sneered, "The American excuse for a beverage. Disgraceful." She sipped her champagne, smacking her lips at its bubbly texture.

_"Hey,"_ Jack mock growled, "I'm American. Don't hate on the USA."

Anastasia snorted, turning her head to the side and looking out of the window. They were high up above the clouds, flying in Jack's plane to Hong Kong. They were going quite fast, she presumed, because she could hear the wind slapping against the sides of the plane and the clouds just seemed like a quick blur of white. Jack wasn't even looking straight out of the plane's cockpit to fly, he had a special screen directing him where to go.

The inside of the plane was sophisticated and well furnished. She figured that Jack hung out in this place, considering that there was a little mini-fridge in the corner of it. Her seat was of leathery texture and black color, with a stylish looking cummerbund as her safety belt. Jack's seat was similar, but in front of him was a panel of glowing controls and a joystick. It reminded Anastasia of a video game.

"Do you really build all these yourself? Where do you get design ideas?" She asked.

Jack leaned back for a moment, keeping one hand on the joystick and using the other to open the mini-fridge and fish out a pack of pudding. Anastasia could see rows upon rows of brown pudding cups. She was flabbergasted; how could anyone stand so much sugar?

Jack held one out to her, asking, "You want?"

She shook her head, holding up her glass, "No thanks. I'll stick to my champagne."

He shrugged, replying, "Your loss." Then he used his teeth to peel the thin aluminum cover off the top of the pudding cup and started to drink it like a cup of milk. He pulled back a few moments later, licked his lips, and said, "And to answer your question, I do build these myself. And most of my ideas are original, thank you very much. And then, some ideas I come across watching movies or documentaries, and I just have to replicate it. But I add my own flair to it so I don't come across as some patent-stealing hack."

Anastasia looked around once more, only then noting the yellow swirls she saw in every cranny of the space. On the joystick, there was a sticker on the ball. In between the buttons on the panel, the non-glowing space looked swirly and yellow. The cup holders, the door handles, the floor, even Jack's goggles, which he wore around his neck had the same insignia. She figured that was his "flair".

She gulped down the rest of the champagne and explained to him, "I know what my mother told you. And it's true, I don't believe in magic, nor do I believe in any deities whatsoever. She brought me up to be a logical person. And seeing as you're such a mechanical genius," she spread her arms out to gesture towards the plane, "you believe the same way I do. So I'm a little confused about why I'm supposed to come with you to China."

Jack lapped up some his chocolate treat using his tongue, to which Anastasia grimaced, and then he stated, "While I agree that I _am_ in fact a mechanical _genius_, I also have to disagree about the magic and the deities thing. I've rubbed elbows with some pretty, uh, sensational creatures of the magical kind."

Quirking an eyebrow upwards, Anastasia asked, "Really now? And what kinds of 'creatures' are we talking about?"

"So far, I've met two dragons. And not the komodo kind," the albino boy replied.

The Russian girl snorted, "Please. When you turn my head into a toilet bowl or create a bouquet of flowers from nothing, then I'll believe you." She crossed her arms over her chest, gripping the empty glass in her right hand and growled, "I can't believe I'm letting you ferry me all the way to Hong Kong, just to see some 'dragons'. You brainwashed my mother."

Jack scoffed, "Oh please. From what my mom has been telling me, Aunt Sophie is a mistrustful hermit who's so bitter with the world that she's been studying ways to destroy it from the inside out. The only thing she's been smart about is believing that magic exists. She just doesn't know how to use it."

Angry at the obvious jab at her mother's sanity, Anastasia threw the glass to the floor, not caring that it shattered on impact. She barked, "My mother is not to be mocked, Jack. You may be my cousin, which I highly doubt because mother would have told me sooner, but you _cannot_ judge my family."

Jack glanced down at the broken glass on the floor, before chuckling dryly and placing his fingers on some buttons on the panel. "You're a _little_ too defensive," he replied, "and what I said is the truth. I have no qualms about admitting that my father is a drunken, rat bastard."

"But my mother isn't any of that, so don't talk negatively about her."

"Fine, fine, fine. Just shut up. You're giving me a headache," Jack rumbled, squishing the plastic cup in his pale hand.

Anastasia gasped, surprised by his unrefined rudeness. When she'd first been introduced by him, he looked classy and well-put together, if not a little odd. But now he just sounded like a regular obnoxious man. No wonder her mother despised the opposite sex so much.

Jack laughed again, this time looking at her, "You're shocked? Well, take a good look, _Anna, _everyone in our family is an asshole. The nicest person you'll find is me."

The Russian girl was utterly confused. "And what about the aunt that I've heard so much about?" She asked.

"My mom is a great lady," Jack said, punching a few buttons in, "but she's so sweet that it's maddening. Her voice gets so high and unnatural that you want to rip your own ears off."

Uncomfortable, Anastasia cautiously replied, "Huh. Aunt Serena seems so unlike my mother. I still can't believe they're twins."

Shrugging, Jack plunged the joystick forward. He turned to his cousin and warned, "You'd better hold on, we're about to land."

She nodded and braced herself, clutching the leather seat's arms with her fists. Within seconds, the plane lunged downwards, and Anastasia's stomach churned with it. She closed her eyes as they spiraled downwards, feeling the pressure return to her ears and head. Moments later, after listening to Jack speak into a radio, punching buttons and switching positions, Anastasia felt the wheels of the plane touch the ground. She sighed in relief as her nervous stomach calmed, and they slowly drifted on the plane into Jack's driveway.

Anastasia opened her eyes and looked out of the window, noting the beautiful greenery and statues and architecture. Though Jack boasted a "mostly American" nationality, his family lived in China for a long while, thus he spoke Mandarin and lived in an oriental-style house. Well, it was more of a mega-mansion, really. The walls were a nice shade of off-white, the pagoda rooftop a deep and pungent looking red. It was several feet high, and extremely wide for a modern house in the city. There were fences all around the home, and only then did Anastasia realize that the Spicers must be a powerful presence in Hong Kong.

"So," she asked as Jack turned off the controls of the plane, "what does your father do?"

Jack snorted again, replying, "My mom's the bread winner in this house. She works with executives in electronics, influencing their decisions and telling them who and what to invest in. She's quite a social butterfly."

Then he stood up, pushing against the door on Anastasia's side of the plane. "Come on," he said, "it's time to introduce you to your long lost aunt."

The girl nodded and clambered out after him. She was intrigued in meeting this new side of her family. The one she'd never known and didn't really care about until a few seconds ago. Jack made his mother seem so….interesting. And she was tempted to see what else he'd built besides his robot butler and his amazing plane—the one that carried them to safety, mind you.

She followed him inside, and raised her eyebrows at the sheer grandeur of the Spicer mansion. It was painted top to bottom in maroon, with dark wooden floors. There was a staircase in the middle of the living room, one that spiraled downwards like the one in her house. Bots like the ones that had served her earlier soared through the room.

"You have a lovely home," she stated, watching one robot whizz past her.

Jack came up behind her, looking confused. "What the Hell? Why are all by JackBots awake? Where the Hell is my mother?"

He pushed past her and chased after a bot, grasping it from behind and twisting his knuckle into its neck. Immediately, it short-circuited and fell with a loud clang onto the floor. Jack stood above it, holding a slate of metal and wires in his right hand. He looked shocked. Not surprised, but literally like he was being electrocuted. His hand twitched before he dropped the slate, grunting and grasping the hand in pain.

"What's going on?" Anastasia asked, already taking a few steps back.

Jack rubbed his hand and inspected it. "I only know one person who likes to play with my bots."

The sound of footsteps echoed in her ears and she turned around. Jack growled behind her, _"Wuya."_


	3. More Proof

At the sound of Jack's angry voice, she instinctively turned her head. She gawked at what she saw. The woman called "Wuya" had a raspy voice, deep and condescending. "Oh, hello, Jack. I see you've already replaced me."

"Kiss my ass, Wuya."

"Wuya" had to be one of the thinnest women on earth, her arms and legs looking like toned toothpicks. Her brown flesh, hairless and fine, was stretched over skeleton so tightly Anastasia couldn't understand how the woman could move. Her black and purple gown was ragged at the bottom, leaving her shins out in the open. She was barefoot, as well. Wuya's face was long and triangular, and for some reason, lined with black makeup. Her slanted, green eyes were heavily made up by mascara and eyeliner, and her thick lips were painted a dull red. Her hair was just as crazy. It was extremely long crinkly, and orange.

Anastasia had never seen someone so beautiful and repulsive at the same time. Well, maybe in a Vogue magazine.

Jack snarled, "What the flying _fuck_ did you do to my mom and my bots?"

The thin woman turned her head to the side and sighed as though extremely bored and justified, "Don't you worry about mommy dearest, Jack. She's fine. I made a phone call and now she's sprinting across the ocean to meet up with an opera singer in New York. As for your toys," she gave him a piercing glare, and Anastasia quirked her eyebrows up. "You know I can never resist destruction."

Jack rolled his red eyes and groaned. Anastasia was confused, baffled, perplexed. Who was this woman that seemed to have it out for Jack? A bot sped by her, beeping uncontrollably. It passed into the next room as Jack stalked over to Wuya and jabbed a finger into her collar bone. "Listen here, you haggard old witch, if you _ever _lay one wrinkly, bony finger on my property again, I will-"

Wuya cut him off with a hard chuckle, and it nonplussed Anastasia even more that Wuya's lungs had the capacity to endure such a long standing laugh. Jack's face scrunched up in rage and his cheeks turned red. When Wuya calmed down, she asked, "You'll do what? Tell Chase? Or the monks? Or that silly little crew you rounded up? You think Tubbimura or that little bimbo _Fatnappe_ could ever touch me?"

Fuming, Jack stepped off and turned his head away somewhat dramatically. "Can you just tell me why you're here, Wuya?" He crossed his arms and rubbed his forehead stressfully.

"Finally see you've been disciplined, boy," the older woman cooed pompously. She locked eyes with Anastasia and the younger woman froze, hoping she wouldn't choke on the fear that'd jumped into her throat. "I wonder if this little bird had anything to do with it?"

As he fumbled his gloved fingers through his whitish-blonde locks in frustration, the Spicer heir roared, "I asked you a question you old bitch!"

Anastasia flinched and it was visible to Wuya. The old woman slinked over and smiled big enough to show off her dazzling fangs. "Why, Jack, I practically raised you. I can't believe you'd speak to me in such a way, after I came here for your help!" She blinked her long, black lashes a couple of times, but it fooled no one.

"Or double cross me," Jack retorted. Then he stood in front his cousin and warned, "Stay away from Anna. She has nothing to do with us."

"Us?" Anastasia echoed, poking her head around Jack's leather encased arm. "She raised you? Is there some sort of Oedipal Complex going on here?"

"Only if Chase Young was the father," Jack muttered under his breath. Wuya snorted as though it were some sort of hilarious inside joke.

Pushing Jack away from her personal space, Anastasia cried, "What on earth is going on? I've only been in China for ten minutes and I'm already hearing hundreds of names and mentions of incest and gangs and monks. Am I in a comic book?"

Her older counterpart sighed, "Anna...remember when I told you about the two dragons thing?" He sighed again and gestured to Wuya with his middle finger. "This old bat is Wuya, one of the dragon's forgotten sneeze rags."

Wuya growled, crossing her scrawny arms over her chest. Anastasia raised an eyebrow, eyeing the woman again before turning to Jack and asking, "What would a dragon want with a sneeze rag?"

Jack grinned maliciously as Wuya threw her head back with an annoyed grunt, "Oh, so we have two comedians now. Wonderful."

"The dragon is a fifteen hundred plus year old warlord named Chase Young," the Goth boy further explained.

His female counterpart scoffed disbelievingly. "Oh come on. I think that's an exaggeration, right? This whole thing isn't real! You," she stabbed a finger in Wuya's direction, "You are not a real witch. Jack was insulting you. And this 'Chase Young' guy might be covered in wrinkles and look ancient but I bet you he's barely a centenarian." She glared at Jack. "You and your stupid friends must all be cosplaying this dumb anime show no one ever saw. That must be it." She slapped her forehead with her palm. "My mother really has been duped."

Jack narrowed his eyes and rumbled, "Magic is real. Chase Young is a real warlord from ancient China and Wuya here really is a bitter witch. You want proof? Show her something, you hag." He nodded at said hag.

Wuya sneered, rolled her eyes, and twisted her wrist in the air for a moment. Anastasia watched in awe as a purple-black wisp mimicked the movements Wuya made. Then the magic fizzled and disappeared. Anastasia gawked at Wuya for a moment before accusingly shouting, "That was a hologram wasn't it?!"

She heard Jack groan, "I give up." He turned to Wuya and asked exasperatedly, "Seriously, what are you here for? And how did you become human again? How many times do I have to kill you before you get the message?"

Anastasia listened with both frustration and confusion. Could they really take this cosplay/roleplaying thing_ that_ seriously?

"Chase kicked you out again? Well, it's no wonder. You're always eating his food and backstabbing him and overall being a colossal bitch," Jack spoke nonchalantly.

Wuya grunted and growled, as if steam was escaping her ears. "If anyone is being a colossal bitch it's his new plaything, that '_Shadow'_ girl. Do you think it's got something to do with her accent?"

The Goth nodded affirmative, knowingly. "Definitely. No one can resist British accents. How do you think they took over like, 80% of the world?"

"No matter. Shadow must be eliminated. She's poisoned Chase and is only out for his power."

"Sounds like someone _I_ know," Jack reminded teasingly, giving Wuya a poke in her bony shoulder.

"Oh shut up, Jack. We need to think of a plan. We will overthrow Shadow and win our Chase back." Wuya made fists and pumped them.

"Our Chase?" Jack repeated, looking perplexed.

"Yes. Ours. You had a crush on him when you were 14, didn't you?" The witch placed a hand on her hip and shifted her weight to her right foot, shaking her head.

Jack rubbed the back of his neck, watching a bot short-circuit a few feet away. "Um, a fan crush? When I was 14. That was six years ago! I'm 20 years old now, Wuya. While I'm all for the Heylin takeover of the world, I'd rather not get involved in this."

"Would you rather Chase take over the world or Shadow?"

"...Chase."

"Exactly. Now what we need to do is get rid of that blue-haired, obnoxious, manipulative-"

"Asinine as she may be, it won't be that simple to have Chase remove her. He knows she's powerful and will want her around. He's sick of you so he won't let you back in. And he's tried me and a lot of others so many times he must feel confused with his sexuality. Uhm...what we need is someone new. Someone fresh to pique his interest," the heir stated, rubbing his stubbly chin.

"_Yes,"_ Wuya droned, scratching her forehead. They both slowly smiled in realization and shifted their gaze to the fearful albino girl standing in the shadows.

Anastasia knew then, what her mother, Jack, Wuya, and the Fates wanted from her. She was to be Chase Young's doormat.

"Ooooh, no. No. NO! I don't even know who this man is and you want me to impress him enough to take over the world? No. NO!" She shouted, backing away from a slowly approaching Jack. The leather-clad cousin clasped his hands together and promised, "I will personally teach you everything you need to know about the Heylin and Xiaolin struggles. Every detail. You're super smart, you'll get it!"

Wuya shoved past him and invaded Anastasia's personal space. Anastasia could now see every curl on her head, every wrinkle and pore and yellowed fang. "And I will teach you the ways of the witch. You need magic for this fight. Unless your Jack, because he's useless."

"Hey!"

"But you, my darling, have potential. And you're gorgeous. Chase will be all over you like a whale on krill," Wuya cackled, grinning evilly,and drinking Anastasia with her emerald eyes.

The young woman didn't like this one bit. "Somehow I don't find that reassuring." She slinked away from the witch and had every intention for diving to the front door but her cousin beat her to it.

Jack clenched her forearms and gave her the saddest red eyes she'd ever seen. "Please," he begged, "this could really work. Just trust me."

Anastasia looked deeply into his ruby irises, trying to find the malice, mistrust, idiocy in them. But he was serious. Genuine. Needy, even. She closed her eyes and sighed, relenting. "OK. BUT I need real proof that this is all really happening, that I'm not dreaming." She glared in Wuya's direction. "I don't think I trust her."

"Hrm!" Wuya plopped on a couch and crossed her bony ankles. "Says the little shrimp who's going to learn magic from _me_."

Anastasia heard Jack fuss with his leather jacket and watched him pull out an expensive looking cell phone. As he tapped at the screen, Wuya asked, "Who are you talking to you?"

Vaguely noting that she did sound like his mother, Anastasia echoed, "Who _are_ you talking to?"

As Jack held the phone up to his ear, he smiled and answered, "An old friend. Someone who'll put this into perspective for you."

* * *

Jack's basement was an...intriguing place, to say the least. The walls were painted black, the floor had pale white tile stained with blotches of dark brown and black-presumably ink and oil. Dimmed lights hung over them, just barely attached to the ceiling. A work table, wide and covered with stacks of blueprints and other significant documents. Pieces of Jack's bots lay scattered everywhere. There were shelves and shelves filled with vials, tools, and strange metallic trinkets. A huge, blank screen was attached to one wall. It was at least ten feet tall and seven feet wide, Anastasia figured.

Wuya walked past all of these things, only to lean against her cousin's work table and say, "Welcome to Frankenstein's laboratory."

"Where all the magic happens," the Goth continued proudly. Anastasia tried to grin in approval but she honestly did not care for this place. It was dank and creepy and looked like Dexter's murdering sanctuary. "This is where you make your bots?" She asked.

Jack shrugged, "I make most of my creations here. Bikes, bots, boats, you name it. Hell, I even produce TV screens for Sony."

Wuya gaped. "So that's where you got all that extra cash from. You little shit, I asked for some dough and you said your parents were being stingy with your trust fund!"

Anastasia snickered, "Ah the joys of having money."

Her cousin gave her a high-five and turned to Wuya. "Calm down, you old coot. I'm saving that money for later."

The witch pouted and harrumphed. Jack sighed and ran his fingers down to metallic table. "Remember when we met, Wuya? It was at this very spot."

Anastasia looked to the witch, who was blinking dreamily, nostalgically. "Ah, yes," she murmured. "Where this all began." then she shot a look at Jack, adding, "For you at least. I had already been marauding across China with my minions, taking over villages, gaining my dues, all that. It was that blasted Dashi who sealed me up in that box. People don't think I'd actually died. It was a magical process but I was essentially dead."

Anastasia gawked. "So you're a reanimated corpse?"

Jack chortled, "She didn't have a body to reanimate. It's weird, seeing her come to life. Flesh, bones, clothing; it's like she never died."

"Hm," Anastasia muttered to herself. All this talk of magic, witches, and boxes that killed had her thinking maybe she should've written her mother an apology letter. She felt terrible now. All the months she'd spent denying her mother the privilege of magic because of her "reasonable" lifestyle.

Things grew quiet for a moment before the floorboards upstairs could be heard creaking. Jack lifted his head and smirked, noting, "She's here." As someone descended the stairs, footsteps getting louder and louder, Anastasia braced herself for whomever Jack invited. Was she another witch? This Shadow woman? Or some other girl Jack and Wuya hadn't already discussed in her presence.

Anastasia wasn't anticipating a dainty, porcelain skinned girl with long jet black hair and glowing blue eyes. "Jack?" The girl asked, scanning Anastasia's face within a millisecond and then shifting over to the Goth boy.

Jack nodded at her, replying, "Hey, Kimi. Thanks for coming over."

"No biggy. Just be quick please, I don't want to freak out the boys."

"Yeah, yeah, I got you. Raimundo still pulling that assholery?" Jack asked, leaning in to wrap an arm around the girl.

She expertly peeled the leathered limb off and gently shoved him off. "Still an asshole. Still full of shit."

"Still. Bro makes hella good cookies."

Kimiko put a hand on her slim hip and chuckled, "That much is true." She gestured to Anastasia with a manicured nail. "Who's the chick?"

Wuya put a hand on the young woman's shoulder, making Anastasia recoil immediately. The witch's hand felt sharp and old and gross. Kimiko sneered at the old woman and warned, "You better not be thinking of attacking the Temple. It was already decimated by your little friends."

The ancient witch chuckled with a hand on her heart. "That wasn't me, dearie, and you know that. It was Chase Young and his whore Shadow. That's sort of why we need you."

Jack grinned at Anastasia and explained, "My clueless cousin from Moscow. Kimiko Tohomiko, meet Anastasia Petre. Anna, meet my old buddy Kimiko." He patted the Japanese girl's red-clad back. "We go way back."

Kimiko smiled kindly at Anastasia and gave her a peace sign. "Hi," she greeted briefly. Anastasia grinned back and replied, "Pleasure to meet you."

Her cousin stood in between them with a smirk and said, "Now that we're all acquainted, I need you, Kim, to show her cool magicky stuff. Like a cool fire move or something." He twiddled his fingers in the air.

The Japanese girl put a hand on her hip and retorted, "Really, Jack? Use one of your Wu!"

Jack pouted and stood in front of one shelf, the one with trinkets on it, "All of my Wu suck or are extremely dangerous. Not to mention _you_ guys have the monkey staff." He pointed an accusing finger. "You know that's like, my favorite Wu ever."

"Ugh," Kimiko responded, throwing her hands in the air. "Fine. Since I'm already here."

Jack kissed her cheek sweetly, "Thanks, Kimi."

She lodged a finger into his cheek, growling, "Don't do that." Then she turned her bright blue gaze to Anastasia and said, "Step forward please."

Anastasia remained frozen in her spot for a moment, watching Jack's expression. The albino heir made ushering movements with his gloved hands. The young woman obediently stepped closer to Kimiko and held her breath tight. Kimiko reached for one of her hands, her right, and held it between her two tiny palms.

"You know," she said, "Since the Temple was destroyed and Master Fung disappeared, we've been trying to rebuild and recruit people to keep the old Xiaolin ways alive. Being one of the four Dragons of the Xiaolin Temple is a big responsibility. I've had to convince potential monks and nuns of my abilities to gain their trust. And I did it like this."

Anastasia couldn't feel anything at first. She glowered at her hand, at Kimiko, at Jack. What kind of sick joke was this? And then, something remarkable happened. Her skin, previously cold from the blaring air conditioner in Jack's home, started to heat up. Her whole body felt bubbly, like one does when sitting in front of a campfire. The warmth was cozy. And it intensified until Anastasia thought she would jump out of her skin. She wiped her brow drowsily and looked at Kimiko with half-lidded eyes. "What are you doing to me?"

Kimiko stepped away, bowed and said, "I'm the Xiaolin Dragon of Fire."

It took Anastasia a moment to process before she blinked and realized, "You could've cooked my organs! I could have spontaneously combusted!"

Jack spoke up, impatient. "Ya _see?!_ She controls fire because it's magic. Her friends control the other elements because _they're_ magic! It's all magic!"

The Dragon of Fire's pocket beeped three times and she fished out her cell phone. Her eyes widened. "Oh, shit, Jack, I gotta bounce."

Jack gave her a fist bump and called, "Later, Kimiko!" Then he focused on Anastasia and asked deviously, "You ready for some training?"


End file.
